Falling
by Nicolehalescuito
Summary: They both played a part in each other's death- will the guilt consume them? Each fight their own battles against the nightmares and the flashbacks. River/11 ONESHOT


A/N: My first fic for Doctor Who, and for River and Eleven, so I apologize if they may be a bit OOC. Leave me a review and I'll try to improve xD

"I can't let you die, without knowing you are loved, by so many and so much," she breathes heavily now as she realizes they are on the pyramid again, her eyes filling with desperate tears, "and by no one," she whispers, her voice cracking a little, even, "m-more than me."

He doesn't say a word, or rather, he doesn't say the right words, his gaze only that of of pity and disappointment. For a moment, he even looks exasperated, and she wonders if he hates her now, detests her for committing this selfish act. They both know what it would do to the universe, and yet she can't bring herself to do it. To pull the trigger. To kill the man she loves. She just can't.

"I'll suffer, if I have to kill you," she chokes out, clinging to his coat and flinching as she feels him stiffen.

"More than every living thing in the universe?" His tone is incredulous and he struggles to push her away.

She sees it, a blinding flash of light that devours everything; Amy and Rory sitting together, arms around each other, laughing. Gone. Even herself, in a space suit. Gone. Everything, everyone, would be gone. And it hurts, it hurts to know that that is what she is giving up. It hurts to know that she'll have to say sorry to each and everyone of them. To the faceless people whose fate she is choosing to toss away, but then she feels a hole, a widening gap, starting from her abdomen, and it's pain like she's never felt it before, tearing though her body and setting her organs aflame viciously. She doubles over, slightly, and closes her eyes, feeling the moisture swirling about, threatening to leak out, and it's too much to handle, even now, when he is standing so near to here and she can hear his breathing. He isn't dead, she fights to tell herself, he isn't dead, he isn't dead, he isn't-

"Yes." She whimpers slightly. Only he keeps standing blankly at her, and suddenly, pulls her forward fiercely, until she almost falls into his arms. She can feel his heart beats, one, two, three, four, one, two, three... As if they are counting down to an inevitable end. He grabs her wrist now, and she knows, her eyes widening with fear, and she struggles, kicking out and screaming but his grip is so strong, and there is a gun in her hand that wasn't there before, heavy and solid, and he forces her to pull the trigger, presses against her sweat slicked fingers and-

She screams, jolting up from her bed. The sheets tangled around her ankles prevent her from collapsing on the floor, and for a moment she dangles halfway off the bed, running shaking fingers over her curls and muttering the phrase, "I'm sorry, my love, so sorry, so sorry..."

River hopes he didn't hear her, not tonight, and slowly straightens up. Sobs still rack her body, but atleast she is quieting, pulling up the blanket around herself again. She knew this would happen, because it did, almost every night, but this time there isn't staccato rhythm of rain beating on the ground outside storm cage, only a low, comforting hum. She's too shaken to sleep now, and she lies there, staring at the ceiling. Maybe she should get up, she reasons, but then she might meet him, wandering around. The impossible man, that didn't need sleep, he would find her. But she didn't want to see him, not like this.

"How long?"

His voice almost starts her into sobbing again, and her eyes

search the room until they fall on a shady corner, where two luminous green eyes peer out. They are glowing, with tears, she realizes, and she turns away, rather childishly.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sweetie," she mutters, and he snorts, moving forward to sit at the foot of the bed.

"You know what I'm talking about, River," he sounds frustrated now, and a bit worried. His thin fingers wrap around her ankle, traveling up slowly and down in what he hopes is a comforting matter. But she doesn't react in the way he hopes, instead going all rigid, "Stop it."

"Stop what?" She asks, turning to face him now, her own eyes boring into his, puffy and red.

"Stop hiding!" He whisper-yells, throwing his hands up and wincing as she flinches, "When are you going to let me in, River? I don't understand, I already know who you are! You're my wife, so why won't you let me help you? And," his eyes glint dangerously now, a finger raises in warning, "don't you are say spoilers. This isn't a spoiler!"

She doesn't reply, even though she knew she should. He stops there, before her, panting, and looks utterly defeated, "Is it because... Because I'm not him?"

Him? She raises an eyebrow, and he seems to take it as affirmative, because his face darkens, and his fingers tear off the red bow tie around his neck flinging it at her tear soaked face.

"So that's it?" He is furious, and she doesn't quite know what to do, because he steps away, the distance between them growing... "After all this time, I'm still not him. Not your doctor. And you still aren't mine. Not my wife, even though I bloody married you. You're his, always his. Well tell me, River," he demanded now, pacing back and forth, forcing himself to stop from grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her, "Tell me this. How are you so sure? So sure that I will become him? Your precious doctor," he sneers, "he doesn't exist now, so what makes you think he ever will? Time can be rewritten remember?" He chuckled darkly, as he throws back the words he said, plunging them and twisting cruelly like a dagger into her heart. He should stop, he knows, but he is so tired. Tired of the games, and all he wanted was to comfort her, because he knew, he knew what she had dreamt about. A memory that haunts them both.

"Doc-" I'm sorry, the words she couldn't say. Because she was still reeling from shock of losing him, the same man who stood before her and taunted her about that same loss.

He turned on his heel and abruptly left, leaving her alone in the dark room to weep, to weep over the fact she lost her love twice in a single night.

Stumbling into the console room, he nearly trips over himself. He wants to go back, to say sorry, and maybe hold her, but his legs don't listen to him. They used to be so obedient; he huffs, and kicks the wall as if to punish them. Except he realizes, his feet are an extension from his body, and for a moment, he clutches his injured foot and hops around in agony. Then he stills, because he hears soft crying from the other room, and his hearts twist sharply, the pain in his leg now easily forgotten.

"Time can be rewritten."

He shouldn't have said that. Stupid, stupid, he scolds himself, as if she needed a reminder. As if he needed a reminder. His anger was subsiding, and though he was still frustrated about not being "the right doctor" that she wanted, he realized long ago that he was willing to wait for that mad, impossible woman. To wait for her to trust him, as she had waited for him to trust her. It was always waiting, with the Ponds, wasn't it? Brilliant family, them Ponds, he scratched his head, leaning against the console.

"Tell me, old girl," he murmured, stroking the flashing buttons, "tell me how to fix this."

A whirr, which wasn't really helpful, but he continued to stroke her, deep in thought. He knew that River was upset because she still felt guilty about his death, but he couldn't really do much to fix that, could he? He did wish he could, but oh. This was hard. The funny thing was, the last time he said those four words, it had been equally as painful, the aftermath. Those words really must be banned, maybe wiped from his mind maybe, he wondered if that was even possible.

"Time can be rewritten!"

He had been so much younger then, in his previous regeneration, with his converse shoes and spiky hair and glasses. Pretty boy, she had called him, but he hadn't been then her doctor either. She had called him then, like always, expecting him to be there to save her, to catch her when she fell, though not that particular him. A him that barely knew her; at that point of time he didn't understand either. Didn't understand why this strange human with squiggly hair(the most astounding hair, actually) had burst into the room and called him sweetie. Didn't understand why she had looked at him with such heartbreaking sadness when he said he had no idea who he was. Even then he had wanted to ease her grief, but he could not. She knew all about him then, from his name to his faces, and even carried his screwdriver. They had ran, and there was linking of hands that he learned would become habit, but no discussion of plans because he hadn't trusted her, and he had shouted at her, because it killed him then, as it killed him now to not know her as well as he should.

And they had landed in a tight spot, and he just had the most fantastical, no, idiotic idea ever. To save the four hundred people in the library, he would have to sacrifice himself. And it had slipped his mind when he was so caught up in all this, that she would have done what she did- save his life, and he had revealed his plan to her and it had all gone very wrong.

She sat, in his minds eye, on a dark, metal throne, her finger untangling wires. He felt the cool metal on the handcuffs slice at his wrists as he struggled, begging her to stop. Stop this, stop it all. Because she would die from this! Didn't she understand? She would die!

She did die.

"Not one line, don't you dare!" She warned, her eyes flashing with anger. And he had kept to this promise, so far. What he said to her in their argument felt like… A betrayal? Like he was breaking that very promise, threatening to disobey his last words. He was betraying her, the future her, and he knew she would be furious, if she ever found out, but she never would. It was all so timey whimey, and yet the doctor still felt guilt rising from his bones, engulfing him as he staggered backwards.

"It's okay, it's okay," she gulped, and he continued to struggle desperately, because now he knew. He knew, or hoped he knew who she was, and he never never should have let her do this. Never, because this meant the end. The end for them. "It's not over for you." But it is. "You'll see me again." He knew he would, but he didn't want to see that her. He loved his River, his bespoke psychopath but he loved the her that was before him as well, the mature, worn out woman who every wrinkle spoke of an untold adventure, whose eyes sparkled as though she had stolen from the stars themselves.

"Time and Space," she had said, smiling sadly as though she was reminded herself of all the marvelous times they had together, "You watch us run."

"I promise," he stopped struggling now, because there was no use, because he knew how this ended. ("There's nothing you can do."), "I promise we'll always run. As far and as fast as you want. For as long as you want. You don't have to do this," his heard his own voice, strained with emotion, yet foreign on his own lips, "Step out of that chair and uncuff me. Please, River, please. There has to be another way. God damnit, think!"

"Please.." He continued to beg brokenly, "Please.. I understand. Professor River Song, I know who you are."

But she didn't hear him, because these were the words he never said. Instead the countdown had ended, and she had connected the wired, thrown back by the force of it all, and he screamed, as the light was so bright, so bright and painful…

"RIVER!"

"Doctor?" She had appeared at the doorway, without him knowing, the tears still slipping down her face as though she couldn't control them anymore.

"River, River, River," he mumbled, drawing her close. He tasted salt, and felt the silk of her dressing gown, "I may never be your doctor, but you'll always be my River. Remember that, please, please remember it. Promise me you will."

"But why?"

"PROMISE!" He bellowed, and she jumped a little, startled. Instantly, he felt bad for upsetting her, and wound his arms tighter as though to say. I'm sorry. Forgive me. So sorry.

"O-okay," she whispers, the both of them kneeling on the ground, entwined, "I promise. But you don't understand, doctor."

Her eyes study his face carefully, and her fingers trace his clenched jaw, wiping away the moisture that dripped from it, "

You've always been my doctor. All this time. Always."

It seemed like an eternity passed, and maybe she fell asleep once more, but as he shifted a little, she woke again, this time smiling blearily up at him.

"Alright then," he sniffled, releasing her somewhat reluctantly as they both get their feet unsteadily, "Enough of this sad stuff, right?" He flicks her nose, affectionately, and she musters another not-quite-smile, "Let's go somewhere fun! I'll let you chose, this time," he says softly, and she is grateful for this.

"I know," her smile broadens, and there is a spark in her eyes once more, the one that he loves, "I know exactly what would cheer you up, cheer me up. It's supposed to be the most beautiful place in the universe, but I've never seen it. Only heard about it, and maybe read a few accounts of it. What do you think?"

"Anything for you, Doctor Song," he grins, running around the console now, pushing buttons at what seems to be random,

"Where are we off too, then?"

"I was thinking," she matches his steps, the smile never leaving her face as she corrects his driving, "the singing towers of Darilium?"

Her smile falters though, as she sees his face darken, and he grows sober, his eyes betraying shock and... Sadness?

"No," he says softly, suddenly pressing her close to him again, burying his face in her blond curls, "Not yet. Not now."


End file.
